Welcome to Hell's Kitchen
by i-came-as-soon-as-i-heard
Summary: It was supposed to be easy job. Stalk (well, observe technically) Jessica Jones and relay her notes to The Boss. She'd be out in six months, no sweat. Then a ninja breaks into her apartment. Now she's stuck with with a bunch of weirdos with weird abilities and even weirder enemies. All she wanted was an easier prison sentence.


**DISCLAIMER: I own none of the characters within the MCU or Marvel Netflix series, I am not claiming any ownership over them, the storylines within their respective shows or the world(s) they exist in. Seriously, all I got are my OCs.**

 **Chapter 1:**

The job sounds simple enough despite the clusterfuck that was her contract (as well as the creepy undertones to some of what she's been instructed to do). Her new name and identity, despite the obvious well thought planning put in still have a few crater-sized holes in them but the deal's benefits are pretty sweet so she might as well just put a pin on that for now. Plus there's the bonus of getting to live in New York. In a semi-decent apartment with semi-decent rent.

The last part's definitely shifty (possibly some behind the scenes…influence) but she's not going to look that gift horse in the mouth just yet. Beside's, the place is only semi-decent. There's still the congregation of shifty figures outside her building in the halls.

All she's gotta do is survive this place for six months.

All she's gotta do is relay some random bullshit about this Jessica Jones woman and she'll be fine.

Hopefully.

Maybe.

She just has to stay out of Jones' way and hope she doesn't find out about her assignment.

Easier said than done considering she's a (good) P.I and scary as fuck but she's also the best option she was given for assignment.

Yeah. sure, she could always try befriending the woman (it would make getting info/dirt on her waaaaaaay easier) but she's pretty sure that it'll take Jones about five seconds (ten tops) to spot the holes in her story and start asking questions. Or just forgo the asking part, and just go about answering them for herself thereby blowing Naomi's cover and job into tiny teeny pieces.

The option's still on the table of course but more as a final, do-it-or-fail-forever-because-time-is-almost-up option.

Whatever. All she's gotta do is lay low, get the job (whatever it really is) done and go back.

Still, Re—Naomi (her name's Naomi now, can't-use-that-name-anymore-not-even-as-an-alias-contract-said-so) can't help but inhale deeply and shakily as her trembling hands unlock her apartment door.

It's only six months.

She grabs her faded green sidebag, and pushes her heart-shaped shades over her eyes. According to her instructions, Jones should be leaving her office right now. Opening her sidebag to make sure she's got her notebook, she stuffs in a few extra pens, smooths her hair and steps outside.

Across from her at the very end of the hall, Jones is busy locking her apartment door.

She side-eyeing Naomi with a look that makes her want to shrivel up and die. Then she just turns and looks straight at her.

"Hey," she says. Her voice is dry in a way that makes even the most mundane of phrases sound like they're dripping with snark. Also slurry so she's probably drunk. "You new around here?"

Naomi nods. "Yeah. Like five minutes new. I just came here from—"

"Cool." Jones says. And heads for the stairs.

 _Nice meeting you too. Glad we introduced ourselves._

At least it's only six months.

Following Jones is even harder than she originally anticipated. She already knew that following her wouldn't be easy - this is Jessica-freaking-Jones after all - but she kinda hoped that the lack of sober would have helped her a bit. Jones being surprisingly functional makes the chances of her beings noticed a little more than probable (the _we just so happened to be in the same area/travelling in the same direction_ excuse kinda flew out the window four blocks and seven random turns ago).

Plus, this is just plain boring.

Not to mention exhausting.

She was never one for gruelling physical activity in her previous life but she was fairly competent at gym class and ran half and hour daily (religiously) for at least four years before coming here.

She hates that she's getting tired so easy here. Obviously, the fact that she's not technically in her own body means that she won't really move the way she's used to but that knowledge does nothing to change the fact that it's still stupidly annoying.

Plus there's the mundaneness of today's trip. Jones doesn't really seem to be doing much of anything. She grabs a coffee at one point and takes maybe three sips before entering a tiny corner store and dumping the cup in a trashcan. Naomi doesn't follow (the place is a little hole-in-the-wall type place that'll really complicate whatever meagre chances she has left at subtlety) and opts for watching through a window.

Jones speaks (yells, really) at the cashier for a bit. The poor guy actually looks like he just about pissed his pants when she entered the store and the whole exchange just makes his condition progressively worse. He does impressively manage to stutter something to Jessica while she scribbles on a notepad.

Jessica nods a bit, says something which might be the closest to civil she's been all day (the guy's shaking has stopped at this point) and then ruins said civilness by snapping at him some more until he passes her a plastic, bulky bag from under the counter.

And then, for the first time today, there's something resembling a smile (or a semi-happy expression at least) on Jones' face. She smirks, nods some more at the cashier and slaps a wad of cash on the counter before sloppily walking out of the store.

What the fuck?

She doesn't follow Jessica for long after the corner store incident. Jones ends up leading her to a fancy-over-priced-looking-hipsteresque-cafe for what seems to be a casual meeting with a blonde woman. Naomi (luckily) grabs a stool at a counter a few paces behind where Jones is seated. Not an easy feat considering how their table is smack dab in the middle of the place, surrounded by crowded counters and tables.

It's weird watching the two women sit together. Jones, in her stained jeans and even more stained flannel shirt is the complete and utter opposite of the woman sitting across from her. It's not even the fact that the blonde is wearing a not-stained-at-all-not-wrinkly-dress with a fancy blazer or the fact that she actually looks like she woke up this morning (unlike Jones, who is lazily slumped over in her chair). It's more about the other, smaller details. Like the fact that she's actually making an effort at conversation while Jones opts for more quippy, snarky remarks. Or the fact that for the first time today there's the flicker of something resembling concern on her face.

She only catches a few words from their conversation (something about a lawyer?) — the cafe is surprisingly crowded for its insane prices (but most of its patrons are wearing clothes which look costlier than her rent so maybe that's part of the appeal). She still scribbles down what she can into her notebook.

Under different circumstances, she'd be concerned about Jones catching her, but with the obvious pissed off facial expressions and the fact that she can actually _hear_ some of what she's saying in this crowded places (courtesy of Jones' loud, angry and long-ish rant) she's probably ok for now. If only she could just record more than a few phrases down from their conversation...

"Excuse me Miss, may I take your order please?"

"What the shit."

A few heads turn at her response but she really doesn't care right now.

The response would most definitely be rude to anyone in the service industry but she probably has a pass on this one. In the grand scheme of things anyway. Probably not with this place's patrons though (judging from their expressions of disgust).

Because standing in front of her, notebook and pen in hand, sporting his usual pair of glasses and his weird-yet-coolishly-unique-mustache is The Boss.

"Excuse me Miss?" His voice is practically dripping with that woe-is-me-please-pity-me-for-I-am-but-a-helpless-old-man persona he's gotten in the habit of using. There's a twinkle of some sorts in his eye. To anyone else, that look would be something innocent. Trustworthy, even.

But Naomi's known this asshat long enough to know that said look can only mean one thing.

She's equal parts pissed off and scared shitless. Already past the point of fight-or-flight. She's as ready to stab him in the eye with her pencil as she is to just fling herself out the window across from her.

But she can't run from him. Or fight him. Not really.

The latter conclusion is just the byproduct of logic. She does violence, she gets jailed. And then dead under mysterious-but-never-gonna-be-investigated-circumstances.

As for the former…..

Yeah, she technically can just dash out of the cafe and The Boss wouldn't even bat an eye at her. But that's only because he wouldn't even need to follow her to know where she's going. Courtesy of the wonders of omnipresence.

All it would take is one snap from his fingers and she'd be back to being chained up to her previous shitty life.

So, instead, she opts to dig her nails into her palms and forces a smile she hopes is convincing.

"I'm so sorry about that Sir."

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thoughts? Constructive criticisms? Is Jessica to OOC? Questions? Feel free to review and let me know what y'all think.**

 **Also, despite some of what the protagonist here may think or say worry not for I absolutely adore Jessica in all her snarky glory. I'm just trying to portray the kind of person who'd be intimidated by her.**


End file.
